Paradise to be Regained
by Phoenix-Talon
Summary: Nursing a broken heart, Lindsey moves to a new city, hoping to heal what's been lost and hide from her heart.  Love has different ideas in the form of Jake Jagielski.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I don't own One Tree Hill or any of its characters. I do own Caro. Woot.**

One of the problems presented by being a workaholic is what to do when you run out of work.

This may seem an impossible task. Surely there's always something to be done. Normally, you'd be right. But I was out of things to do. Well, either I was out of things to do or I'd run out of ideas for things to do. Either way, I was in the horrible position of being alone with my thoughts.

I glanced at the manuscripts lying on my kitchen table. I had tripled my workload, burying myself in three completed drafts from three separate writers and had literally done nothing but edit from sunup to sundown for the past three months. I edited while I cooked, I edited while I ate, I edited while I watched Kenneth Brannagh movies, literally working until I collapsed onto my bed with exhaustion. But now I had gone through these manuscripts at least thirty times and the edits were done. Until my writers got back to me, I had nothing else to do. Even worse, I knew my writers _wouldn't_ get back to me for a while, as I'd returned completed the edits way ahead of schedule.

My fingers twitched. I gazed around my apartment. It was irritatingly spotless. The dishes were done, my closets were perfectly organized, my floors scrubbed, and my tables wiped down. My bookshelves were alphabetized by author and publication date. I'd already bought my groceries for the week. My checkbook was balanced. My bills were paid.

Damn it.

I considered driving to my office and pleading with my boss to give me more work, but I knew it would be to no avail. Cole had told me in no uncertain terms that he considered my obsessive work habits unhealthy and I was not to return to the office until I'd taken a needed vacation.

I nervously drummed my fingers on my countertop. I had no work, no project, no chores to complete. All I had was my own company to suffer through, an unbearable plight. Because inevitably, my thoughts would turn to Lucas.

Lucas Scott. The man I'd fell in love with. The man I was going to marry. The man I left at the altar.

Thinking about him made my breath ragged and caused my eyes to sting. No, no. I wasn't going to do this. I wasn't going to sit and feel sorry for myself. I wasn't going to become a tired old cliché, eating a pint of Ben and Jerry's and weeping over Titanic. I was Lindsey Strauss, an independent, strong, smart, talented editor. I didn't need a man in my life to make me happy.

_Not a man…but I did need Lucas._

I was rescued from the torment of my thoughts my phone's abrupt ringing. Sighing with relief, I glanced at the caller ID and smiled. I pressed the send button.

"Hey, Caro," I greeted warmly.

"Hey, yourself!" Caro said cheerfully. Caroline Morris had been my college roommate and my best friend for a good seven years now. She was everything I wanted to be—eclectic, artistic, creative, funny. She was never afraid to try something new, be it dying her hair an odd color or piercing something random. I missed her desperately.

"How's St. Louis?" I asked, tracing a finger around the grooves on my kitchen table. Caro had a multitude of careers not limited to being an well sought after spoken word poet, leader of several activist groups, a major blogger, and an LGBT counselor. Currently, her passions had settled her in St. Louis, Missouri, but it was anyone's guess how long she'd be there.

"St. Louis' best season is fall," Caro reported. "The trees are pretty and it's just the right weather. It won't last though, they're predicting this winter's going to be a nasty one. How's everything where you are?"

I blinked, considering. It occurred to me that I hadn't been aware of the weather for the last month or so.

"Monotonous," I said, deciding that was the safest answer. Unfortunately, Caro knew me too well.

"Getting a lot of work done?" She said in an innocent tone. I knew her angle.

"Oh, you know," I lied, ignoring the accusatory finished manuscripts lying on the table. "The usual pileup."

"You've gotten everything done ahead of schedule, haven't you?"

I sighed. It was simply impossible to lie to Caro. "There's nothing wrong with getting a head start," I defended myself.

"Let me guess. You're apartment's freakishly clean and your silverware drawers are completely organized. Correct?"

"Actually, I _haven't_ organized my silverware drawers, but that's a good idea…" I trailed off. I could almost feel the judgment emanating from the phone.

"Lindsey Strauss," Caro said sternly. "You can't hide from your heartache in projects."

Sure I could. The only default within this plan was running out of projects. But telling Caro this would annoy her. "I'm not," I said dully.

There was a significant pause from the other end of the line, a pause that indicated there was no way Caro was going to drop this.

"Lindsey," She began in a warning tone.

"I know," I said, in an almost snappish voice. "I'm not—not handling this right."

"Oh, Linds," Caro's voice turned from firm to sympathetic. "What is the 'right way' anyway?"

I closed my eyes, leaning against my refrigerator. The cool surface was soothing on my forehead. "Not what I'm doing," I admitted. "But it's familiar. It's what I know. It's easier to deal with."

Caro was silent for a moment. She then hesitantly asked, "When was the last time you saw Lucas?"

His name caused me to flinch. Swallowing hard, I answered, "During the meeting detailing _The Comet's _book tour."

I could sense Caro debating with herself whether or not to ask me the fatal question. I was torn between wishing she'd change the subject and wishing she'd just get it over with. I had to bite the bullet sometime.

"Did something happen then?" She said quietly.

My throat constricted and I struggled to regain composure. "He's marrying Peyton," I said in a stilted voice.

I half-smiled when Caro let loose a string of colorful expletives that would've made a sailor blush. She ended with, "—that son of a bitch!"

I let out a noise that could have been interpreted as either a sob or a laugh.

"He's an idiot," Caro said savagely.

I shook my head. "No. I'm the idiot. For thinking that after writing what was essentially a giant love letter to Peyton Sawyer, Lucas Scott could possibly want to spend his life with me."

Caro was silent before saying, "You know, I always hated that book."

I frowned. "Easy girl, I edited that book."

"I'm sure you did a wonderful job doing so," Caro said magnanimously. "But that didn't stop the entire plot of the book from having the worst theme imaginable. I never saw Luke and Peyton's love as something pure and unconquerable. I saw it as poisounous and selfish. How many times did both characters hurt Brooke Davis? And she just took it like a martyr! If you ask me, she's the real hero of the story."

I smiled, remembering fondly the spirited brunette. I hoped she would find someone deserving of her love and energy. Of everyone I met in Tree Hill, she was the one who needed it the most.

"But anyway," Caro sighed through the phone. "I'm worried about you, Lindsey."

"I know," I fidgeted with my red pen. "You're not the only one. My mom's been calling every day. She thinks I should take some time off, stay at Walden Pond for a little bit."

"Your mom's a smart lady," Caro commented. "So why don't you? It'd be good to get away, and you've always loved that place."

"Uh uh," I shook my head for emphasis, even though she couldn't see it through the phone. "I couldn't be alone there." I didn't add that I hadn't been back to Walden Pond since my dad had died. That would bring up an entire new set of issues that I didn't want to deal with.

"Well, you gotta do something, Linds," Caro said, almost sadly. "Or you're gonna go nuts in that tiny apartment. You'll have a nervous breakdown or something."

I took a deep breath. "I've…thought about that…" I said slowly. "Making a change. Asking for a transfer or something…go to a place where no one knows me. But I'm not like you, Caro. I'm not a nomad. Even moving to Tree Hill—for however short a time it was—was hard for me. I just…"

"Holy shit, I'm an IDIOT!" Caro suddenly exclaimed. "You can come live with me! In St. Louis!"

I was startled. "What?"

"Move in with me!" Caro repeated excitedly. "Come to St. Louis! You won't be alone—it'll be just like college! St. Louis has an incredible arts and writing scene, you can tell your boss you're taking some time off to scope out some new writers! It'd be perfect!"

I laughed. "C'mon, Caro. I can't just up and move to St. Louis."

"Why not?" Caro demanded.

To my shock, an immediate reason didn't come to me. "Well…because I can't! I have a life here, Caro!"

"Oh _really_," Caro said slyly. "What _life_ do you have there?"

Again, I was unable to answer. Aside from my job, I had no holds here. What did I have? An empty apartment? A hollow work schedule?

_And worse_, I thought. _ A hollow heart._

"Yes," I said quickly.

"Yes?"

"Yes, I'll move there," I said firmly, before I could change my mind. "I'm taking the next flight out there. I'll have the rest of my stuff sent over. You sure Beatrix won't mind?" Beatrix Holmes was Caro's steady girlfriend. I didn't know where they were at—I certainly didn't want to just barge in if they were making plans together.

"Trix will be fine with it," Caro replied. "She's actually gearing up for a mission trip in Uganda next week, so she won't be around for long. Besides, I have a spare bedroom—it's not like Trix ever used it."

I smiled. "Great. I'll see you tomorrow."

XXXXXX

Over the next twenty-four hours, I had packed, bought a ticket, and arranged to have my things shipped to St. Louis. It was spontaneous, it was crazy. I was completely out of my comfort zone and I thrived on the terror of the change. Every rational voice in my head told me I was jumping way too quickly into things, but every logical reason gave me more determination to leap before I looked.

I arrived in Lambert airport the next day at around 3 PM. Caro was there waiting.

"Hey, you!" She squealed, wrapping her pale arms around me. Every time I saw her, her hair was a different color. Currently, it was jet black with hot pink stripes. It set off her dark green eyes surprisingly well. I grinned, imagining how strange we must look—me in my conservative tailored work dress, her in paint-splotched jeans and a Bowie shirt.

God, I had missed her.

I'd expected Caro's apartment to be funky and artsy, perhaps covered in odd murals or have strange tribal art. Her apartment turned out to be very clean cut, with fresh white walls and elegant furniture.

"Not what I thought it'd be," I commented, glancing around. Caro beamed.

"Oh please," She tisked. "I like to keep things unexpected. Besides, the landlord here is really finicky about painting the walls or having anything interesting."

My room was adjacent to Caro's, with a small futon neatly rolled up against the wall and one measly bookshelf. I'd have to buy more bookshelves and a decent bed if I wanted to last.

Caro watched me busily unpack. "When you're done being an anal retentive," She teased as I carefully hung up my dresses in the closet. "Let's go out and get a drink. I know the perfect place."

I grimaced. I was tired and the plane hadn't done much for my appearance. "Oh Caro, I'd really rather not," I said. "Let's just rent a movie or something, I don't want to go out anywhere."

Caro grinned. "This is St. Louis, Linds, you don't have to dress to the nines to go out. The dive's in walking distance and they got a really cute guitar player tonight, Jake Ja—something-or-other. He hardly ever plays so it's a serious treat tonight! C'mon! Let's have a nice buzz and enjoy some eye candy to celebrate!"

I groaned. "Oh, fine. One drink. One set. And then I'm crashing on that pitiful futon for the next twelve hours."

"Deal!" Caro sang.

I insisted on changing out of my plane clothes, slipping on a cream-colored shift dress that was casual and deliciously comfortable. Caro hadn't lied, the bar, called Cleo's, was very close to the apartment and the crisp autumn air seemed to revive my spirits a little. I felt almost happy.

Caro ordered a wild turkey and I picked out a nice Chardonnay that immediately made me feel grateful to Caro for making me go. The bar was comfortably crowded, but not obnoxiously so. Caro chatted animatedly as I gazed about the dive. I noticed the guitar player Caro had mentioned, setting up amps and whatnot. I looked at him interestedly and then guiltily, as a pang hit my heart, remembering. Lucas and I used to attend no-name gigs. It had been one of our 'things', something we both loved doing. I took another sip of my drink, suddenly feeling lost and lonely.

At that moment, the singer glanced up at me. Our eyes locked. He smiled and for the briefest instant, I felt as though the floor was giving way under me.


	2. You Can't Run

**AN: I've never written a One Tree Hill fic before or ventured into the fandom—man, is there a lot of Lindsey hate. I guess I understand, as she was pretty much nothing but a monkey wrench in the Lucas/Peyton story. But then again, I was never really a big fan of Lucas **_**or**_** Peyton, and I'm afraid this story will reflect that. Apologies in advance.**

**Disclaimer—I don't own One Tree Hill or any of the characters.**

****

"What are you looking at?" Caro asked.

I barely heard her. His eyes seemed to pin me and I felt shaky. What was going on? A fluttering in my stomach emerged. Seriously—_butterflies_? Did I somehow go back in time to high school? Since when did a cute guitar player cause my palms to sweat?

"Lindsey?"

He was still looking at me. Pull yourself together, I told myself. I somehow managed to summon my 'cool and composed' expression. It had just been a while. That was all. I hadn't seen a guy that interested me for months let alone get that kind of attention.

My cold expression didn't seem to deter him. If anything, he looked more amused than anything else. Damn it, his grin was infectious.

"Lindsey!"

I was jerked out of my reverie. Caro was eyeing me suspiciously.

"Sorry, what'd you say?" I asked tearing my gaze away from him. Caro smirked.

"Were you staring at guitar boy?" She asked sweetly. My face burned slightly—I blamed it on the chardonnay.

"No," I said calmly taking another sip.

"Really," Caro said in a skeptical tone. "Because you know…he's staring at you."

I resisted the urge to look and instead chose to pick up a flier on our table and read it intently.

"Still staring," Caro sang. "He really _is_ cute."

I cast her an annoyed look. "Caro, really. I'm not in the mood for this kind of thing. I'm just here having an drink with some old friends in a new city."

Caro shrugged. Her eyes turned serious. "Well, let me ask you this. Have you dated anyone since Lucas?"

I shook my head.

"Not even just a coffee?" Caro asked pleadingly. "Maybe a one night stand that you regret?"

One night stands weren't my style. "Look, I know you don't get this, because I know you never liked Lucas," I tried to explain. "But—I loved Luke. I loved him—so much. And the fact that he chose Peyton—it isn't something that hurt once. It breaks my heart every single day, waking up and knowing that he's not the one for me. As much as my head knows it, I can't seem to break it to my heart."

Caro began to shred her napkin, a habit I recognized from college. When she was thoughtful or stressed, she tended to destroy paper napkins or straw wrappers until our table was covered in papery snow.

"Linds—" She said haltingly. "You know—you were the one to leave him."

I traced a finger around the rim of my glass. Yes, I had left him. But I was also the one, in a moment of weakness, to call him and admit that I'd lied, that I wasn't dating anyone. I'd told him, my voice cracking, that I missed him. If he'd asked for me to come back that night, I would've.

But he didn't. He had gently said he missed me too, but that I'd done the right thing that day. We weren't meant for each other.

The guitar player had started singing. Caro and I paused our conversation, listening to the lyrics.

_You can run, you can run_

_But you can't hide_

_From my love, you can run_

_You can run but you can't hide._

The guitar player flashed a knowing smile at me. My throat suddenly went dry and I ordered another Chardonnay.

"And in any case," Caro interrupted my thoughts. "Who said I didn't like him?"

I snorted. "Caro, I asked you to be my maid of honor and you refused, giving me some bullshit excuse about being busy. I had to ask Haley Scott, and I'd only just gotten to know her."

"Hey," Caro protested. "I _was_ busy. I had a speaking engagement at WashU—"

"Caroline Morris, don't even try that with me," I said firmly. "If I'd been marrying someone you approved of, all the powers of Hell couldn't keep you from coming and being there for me. You just never liked Lucas."

"Well," Caro defended herself. "I just have a low bullshit tolerance."

"When I first introduced the two of you, you told him his book sucked and his main character sounded like a pretentious tool," I pointed out.

"And he got all offended," Caro said fondly. "The real man for you would've been amused by me or at least impressed by my bluntness."

I rolled my eyes. "Sometimes I wonder why I'm friends with you," I mumbled.

"Wonder away," Caro said airily. "While you wonder, I'm going to go give the cute guitar player your number."

I choked on my drink. "Caro, don't. Caro, I'm serious. No! Stop!" Caro paid me no heed, hopping off the barstool and sauntering up to the stage. He had paused between songs, and was in the midst of taking a drink of water. His eyebrows raised as Caro trotted up to him.

"Oh, God," I groaned to myself, quickly averting my gaze and staring hard at the flier. The flier read, TONIGHT AT CLEO'S: JAKE JAGIELSKI, BRYAN DRILLING, KAT & KACI

Jake Jagielski. I smiled in spite of myself. Maybe it was the editor in me, but there was something I liked about alliterative names.

Caro had returned, looking smug and triumphant. "Mission accomplished."

I glared at her. "Caro, I do _not_ need your help getting dates. Secondly, I told you before, I'm not ready for that kind of thing."

"I'm not asking you to marry the guy," Caro argued. "I'm just saying a date, a one night stand, hell, even a flirty conversation at this point—that could be good for you." Before I could angrily retort, her phone beeped at her. She glanced at and grinned.

"That's Beatrix," She said promptly. "She's waiting at the apartment. I'm gonna go meet her there." She started to gather her things.

"Hang on, let me finish my drink, I'll go with you," I said but Caro shook her head smiling.

"Uh uh," She said commandingly. "Take your time. Jake Ja-something-or-other will be finish his set in a little bit and he will most likely come over and talk to you. So don't you go nowhere."

My eyes had daggers in them but Caro paid me no heed. "I'll see you later tonight—or," She added hopefully. "Tomorrow morning!"

I attempted to hit her with my Coach purse but she dodged it gleefully, practically skipping out the door.

I rubbed my temples. Ugh. I should've suspected something like this would happen—Caro was a wonderful friend in all respects except in leaving me alone. She found being single the most depressing state of being ever. She flitted from boyfriend to girlfriend, never taking any transition periods in between. Thankfully, her relationship with Beatrix seemed to be lasting a while, but this defect in Caro's personality caused her to view my singleness as something to change as soon as possible. She just didn't understand my desperate need to heal.

_Such a lonely boy_

_ Couldn't find the joy within_

_ Such a lonely girl_

_ Such a lonely world we're living in_

_ I watch it all go by_

_ Can't find a tear to cry, a tear to cry, a tear to cry_

The lyrics had a strange affect on me. I had never considered myself a musician or a lover of music—not as much as Luke or Haley, at any rate. But the music this Jake guy was playing…it touched a chord within me. It was as if my soul recognized the melody.

_It's so obvious how they need each other_

_ Wanting, bleeding, hurting, but they keep it covered_

_ Till it's one big lie_

_ Can't say hello cause they fear goodbyes_

_ Well they fear goodbyes, they fear goodbyes_

He finished the rest of the song, but I tuned out the rest of the song. It was affecting me too much. If I shut out the words, then I shut out the emotions as well.

The bar applauded loudly and he thanked us all politely. His eyes scanned the room till they fell on me—sitting alone.

My palms began to sweat again. Damn it. I should've left while I had the chance. But now he was heading towards me, even if I managed to pay my tab and dart out of there, it would be so obvious that I was running from him. Damn it, damn it, damn it…

He was in front of me. On closer inspection, I was able to see the lovely color of his eyes and how is ears stuck out slightly. God, I loved those ears.

"Hey," He gave me a little half-smile.

I cleared my throat. "Um, hey," I managed a smile.

"Your friend was very…insistent that I get this," He held up a slip of paper. I recognized my phone number scrawled across it. "But…the thing is…"

"Yeah," I ran my fingers through my hair nervously. "Look—"

"It's not that I'm not flattered—" He started to say.

"I'm not really ready to go out with anyone—"

"I'm not in a position right now to—"

We both stopped the flow of excuses and stared at each other, surprised. Without warning, we both began laughing.

"Looks like we're not very good at this, huh?" He folded his arms and gave me that painfully beautiful smile.

"I guess not," I admitted. "Where exactly does that leave us?"

"Well," He said ponderingly. "Let's just start with names. No harm in introducing ourselves." He extended a hand. "I'm Jake. Jake Jagielski."

I held up the flier. "I saw. You were really good, by the way. My name's Lindsey Strauss." I shook his proffered hand and we both smiled shyly at each other.

"So—now what?" I laughed, not sure what else to do.

"How about," Jake suggested. "I buy you a coffee. No expectations, no ulterior motives. Let's just get a coffee, have a friendly conversation, and leave as pleasant acquaintances."

I grinned. "Caro will be so disappointed."

"I'm sure she'll move on, with time," He said slyly. "But seeing as we're both clearly not interested in anything but a casual conversation, I think that would be the best thing, don't you?"

There was something about his words—something almost akin to a warning bell to my heart, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Still…Jake seemed friendly. It wouldn't hurt to have a coffee with someone in a new city, would it? It's not like anything would happen. I was still not over Lucas.

"All right, deal," I smiled up at him, ignoring the increase of butterflies in my stomach as his smile grew wider. "Let's get a coffee."


	3. Coffee vs Tea

I could never stand the taste of coffee. It was too bitter. No matter how much cream and sugar I stirred in, that unmistakable coffee taste would not go away. I was a tea drinker, with lots of cream and sugar.

Lucas loved coffee. Every morning he would brew himself at least two pots, pure and black. He drank it in the morning, in the afternoon, while he was writing—all day. The only time I liked the taste of coffee was when he kissed me. I smiled at the thought of him in my apartment's kitchen, dusting off the old coffeemaker I never used, the first time he spent the night. He loved coffee. The bitterness agreed with him.

Looking back, the whole thing was ominous. Luke always liked things that were _challenging_, that were hard to swallow. Maybe that's why he chose Peyton and not me. Maybe I was too simple.

"I'd like a decaf chai latte please," I requested. The barista nodded and looked at Jake expectantly.

"Earl gray tea would be great," He said easily, handing over his credit card. My eyebrows quirked.

"Guess it is kind of late for coffee," I commented.

"Yes," Jake acknowledged. "But I'm not much of a coffee drinker anyway. I sometimes drink it in the morning, to wake me up, but I like tea. Tastes better." He smiled at me.

This similarity made my heart flutter. I swallowed hard, pushing the feelings away. The last thing I needed was a new guy in my life. We chose a seat by the window, overlooking Delmar street. I sipped my chai contentedly, enjoying the spicy sweet flavor.

"So," Jake took a gulp of his tea. "I get the feeling you and I are not natives of St. Louis."

I smiled. "And you'd be right. I'm new—actually, I just arrived today. I'm from Boston, originally."

"Well, I'm glad to welcome you properly," Jake remarked. "I've been here for about three years now, but I'm originally from North Carolina."

I started slightly at that. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask whereabouts, but I decided not to go there. There was no point in seeing if he knew of Tree Hill or Lucas and it would only keep me from moving on.

"Do you have family here?" I decided was a safe question.

"Actually no," Jake remarked. "I've been a bit of a nomad for the past few years, but I'm hoping to at least stay in St. Louis for a while." He hesitated for a moment before saying, "At least for my daughter's sake."

"You have a daughter?" I was surprised. "How old is she?"

"She's seven," Jake replied with a warm smile. "Her name's Jenny."

I beamed. I'd always loved children. It had been doubly hard to leave Lucas knowing I'd have to leave Jamie as well. Despite my affection for children, Jake having a daughter was another reason not to get involved with him. I could barely negotiate my own emotional affairs, I certainly couldn't add a child into the equation.

"Do you have any kids?" Jake asked politely. I shook my head.

"No, I'm sort of married to my job at the moment," I half-joked. "I do…I do want kids, someday. But things are sort of complicated for me right now…"

Jake looked at me, a question in his eyes. He was clearly too polite to ask, so I decided to throw caution to the wind.

"I'm engaged," I blurted. "I mean—I was. I was engaged. I just got out of an engagement. I—I left him at the altar."

If that didn't send Jake Jagielski screaming from the coffee shop, I didn't know what would. But he didn't. He raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his tea.

"Wow," He said calmly. "That's rough."

"I know," I said miserably. "I must've made him feel so awful. So terrible. All of his family watching while I ran away like Julia Roberts on steroids…"

"I wasn't talking about the guy," Jake said gently. "I meant that it was rough for you."

I blinked. I'd been killing myself about it for so long, it was hard to take someone's sympathy for _myself_.

"I mean," Jake considered. "Running out of there in your wedding dress? All those people staring at you? That would've sucked."

I smiled grimly. "It did suck," I admitted. "It was awful. I'm sorry if I'm freaking you out…"

Jake snorted. "Trust me. My life has had it's own complications—I am definitely not one to judge drama."

I had to laugh at that. "Well, enough of that angst," I attempted a real smile. "It's over with. I'm trying to…trying to find a new life, I guess. That's why I moved here."

"Well, you and I have that in common," Jake remarked. "That's what I'm trying to do."

We shared another smile and once again, I felt that familiar warmth at the pit of my stomach.

"So, what do you do?" I asked, dropping my gaze nervously. "Aside from crooning love songs in dim pubs."

Jake laughed. "Nothing super exciting. I do maintenance kinda work, occasionally construction. I like working with my hands and it's good money, you know? I'm just trying to save up for a decent house. Jenny and I live in a crappy apartment. She's the sweetest thing, she never complains or anything—but I think she'd really like her own house. For that matter, I would too, I'm sick of apartments."

"I know what you mean," I agreed. "I'd love to save up for a house someday. I just moved in with my best friend—Caro, who gave you my number—and it's definitely going to be an adjustment. I guess I always thought I'd have a family before I had a house."

"They tend to help," Jake smiled. He looked like he had something more to say but a waitress paused in front of our booth, clearing her throat.

"I'm sorry, but, we're closing up now," She said politely, before scooting away. I felt a dangerous pang of regret.

"Looks like that's our cue," Jake sighed and stood. Without asking, he picked up my empty cardboard cup and threw it away with his own. It was a seemingly innocuous gesture, but the consideration of it touched me.

"Well," I slipped on my coat and braved a smile. "Thanks for the tea. It was really nice meeting you, Jake."

"It was nice meeting you too," Jake replied softly. "Want me to walk you home?"

"Oh no," I raised my hand. "It's not necessary."

Jake quirked an eyebrow. "Lindsey, it's after midnight in St. Louis and you walked here," He smirked. "St. Louis wasn't voted the most dangerous city in the US for publicity…"

I giggled. "Okay, you win," I said grandly. "You may escort me home."

The walk home was very uneventful. I silently thanked God for blessing me with keen directional sense and a sharp memory, because without it, we never would've found Caro's apartment.

In any case, I was enjoying Jake's company. I was glad he'd convinced me to let him walk me home. I liked talking to him a little too much—he was interesting and funny. He made me laugh genuinely rather than forcibly.

When we reached my doorstop, I was disappointed the evening was ending.

"Well, this is me," I said, fiddling in my purse for my keys. "Thanks for the great evening, Jake."

"You too," He said softly. We looked at each other once more and I felt the air vibrate with electricity. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the intense desire for him to kiss me.

"Lindsey," Jake said seriously. "I know…you and I aren't in a position to date anyone right now."

"You're right," I swallowed.

"So since I'm probably never going to see you again," The corners of his lips quirked. "Could I kiss you good night?"

"Yes," I said without thinking, exhaling sharply. He smiled at my enthusiastic response. He leant towards me and I closed my eyes. At first, all I felt was his warm breath on my cheek, but when he kissed me, it felt like my whole body caught fire.

It was just the barest brush of his lips against mine, but without warning, I was suddenly wrapping my arms around his neck, encouraging him to deepen the kiss. The kiss intensified. He held me tightly, fingers running through my hair, his tongue gratefully lapping along with mine. It was a good kiss. It was an _electrifying _kiss. _No one_ had ever kissed me like this before.

Not even Lucas.

At that realization, I pulled away. His arms were still around me and he blinked at me in confusion. Looking at his dazed expression, I realized the kiss had affected him just as much. Hesitantly, we both stepped away from each other.

"Uh," Jake managed a laugh. "I guess—good night."

I nodded shakily. "Good night." Before he could say anything else, I quickly went into the apartment, not daring to look back.


	4. Jenny

"Lindsey! Wake up!"

I groaned, burying my head under a pillow. My head was still fuzzy from the grog of sleep and it was only Caro's insistent voice keeping me awake.

"Lindsey! Wake up! What happened last night? Tell me!"

"Caro, seriously," I groaned, attempting to burrow into my sheets. "Seeing as I've uprooted my entire life, I _did_ hope that at least for today I could sleep in!"

Caro huffed impatiently. She was a natural morning person; sleeping in was never something she could comprehend. I was a night owl masquerading as a morning person, which meant that usually, I forced myself to get up early. But after the strangeness of the previous day, I felt I deserved a break.

"_Please_ tell me you had an early walk of shame home and that's why you're tired!" Caro begged, sitting on my waist.

"_No,_ I did _not_ sleep with him," I groused. "Could you get off of me? You're crushing my spine."

"Did you at least get his number?" Caro persisted.

"We both agreed that we weren't in a position to date," I said, my voice muffled into the sheets. "Now get OFF of me!"

Caro sighed dramatically and clambered off. Grumbling to myself, I sat up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. My mood improved slightly when Caro handed me a steaming hot cup of tea.

"Do you love me again?" She winked.

"Yes," I sighed, letting the flavor caress my tongue. "But you're officially fired from alarm clock duty."

For the next few weeks, I tried to keep my mind away from the electrifying kiss. I spent my days furniture shopping and running errands, trying to smooth my abrupt departure. I involved myself in the music and writing scene, haunting about cafes during Open Mic nights, listening for the next great writer. I spent at least three hours on the phone with my mother, explaining my decision to move. She was less than supportive—I couldn't blame her for it. An impulsive, reckless decision from a generally cautious and wary daughter was sure to create concern. In any case, the longer I spent cementing my stay here, the more positive I became about its outcome.

St. Louis had a metro system, but it was becoming apparent that I really needed a new car. The walks had been invigorating for the most part, but every day was becoming more of a challenge, especially in heels. At the end of the week, I was glad to take my chai latte and cinnamon bun to the park and rest my aching feet.

I chose a spot that overlooked a playground, presumably attached to a school. Sipping my drink, I watched the school let out. Parents came and picked up their children but a fair few headed straight for the playground, shouting and squealing to their heart's content.

An hour passed, and the children slowly came and went, parents filtering in to pick them up. Soon, there was one little girl left, playing by herself on the swings, still apparently waiting for her parent.

I hadn't meant to stay for that long, but the playground was growing increasingly more empty and I didn't like the idea of leaving her alone. So I waited, checking my watch, as the little girl continued to swing by herself. She was a pretty little thing, with blonde hair and bright blue eyes. After another half hour passed, I decided to act.

I walked over to her, throwing away my paper cup. I took a swing next to her.

"Do you know when your mom or dad is supposed to get here?" I asked gently. "Do you want to use my cell phone to call one of them?"

"My dad's working," The little girl informed me, never ceasing her swinging. "And it's not his day, it's my mom's. She probably forgot again. She forgets a lot."

"I see," I said, not liking the resignation in the little girl's tone. "Do you want to use my phone to call her, then?"

The girl considered carefully. "I don't remember her number," She said finally. I was liking this turn of events less and less. "Can you call your dad?"

She shook her head firmly. "I think he's at work and it's not his day. My mom gets mad when he picks me up on her day and then they fight and it's loud." She squinted.

I licked my lips. "Still," I said nervously. "Your dad wouldn't like you to be out here alone. I think you should call him."

"I don't know his number either," She replied honestly. She sniffled a little bit, glancing anxiously down the street.

I was in something of a bind. On the one hand, I wanted desperately to see if I could take her home. On the other hand, I did _not_ want to teach her that it was all right to trust any stranger who offered her a ride. But I was running low on options, and now I was invested.

"Do you know your way home?" I sighed finally.

"Yes," She reported. "But I don't want to go home."

"Aren't you tired of playing by yourself?" I asked gently.

She shrugged. "I don't like going home," She said firmly. "I don't like Kevin."

I frowned. "Who's Kevin?"

"Kevin's my mom's boyfriend," The little girl informed me. "I don't like him. He smokes gross cigarettes with my mom and he stares at me funny."

I stilled. "He stares at you funny?"

"Yes," She replied, staring at her shoes. She didn't elaborate but she didn't have to. I licked my lips nervously.

"Well, look," I said finally. "How about I walk you to your dad's house? Do you know how to get there?"

She nodded eagerly brightening at the mention of her father. "Yes!"

I handed her my iPhone, punching in a few numbers. "You should never, ever talk to strangers," I warned. "Or let them give you rides home or anything. So you hold onto my phone, and if you think I'm going to hurt you or take you away, you press the call button, and my phone will dial 911. Deal?"

The little girl smiled at me, looking as though I amused her. "Deal."

It wasn't a perfect plan, but it was better than leaving her alone at the playground, hoping her mom would pick her up eventually. She slipped on her pink backpack, carefully holding my phone like a crown jewel. To my surprise, she slipped her other hand into mine, smiling at me trustingly.

"My name is Lindsey," I introduced, squeezing her little palm.

"I'm Jenny," She grinned at me. Jenny had an adorable smile, a little gap-toothed from loose teeth.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Jenny," I told her. "I'm sorry your mom wasn't able to pick you up."

Jenny shrugged. "She forgets a lot, but I won't be at her house that long. Daddy usually has me most days."

"Well, I'm sure he won't mind you coming home a little early," I said hopefully. "But you know, honey, if your mom's boyfriend makes you feel uncomfortable, you ought to tell your daddy." We crossed another street, being sure to watch out for cars. Jenny pointed out a bakery she liked before finally answering.

She shook her head fiercely. "He'd get really mad," She said confidentl as we turned a corner.

"Don't you think that might be a good thing?" I suggested to her. We stopped at an intersection and I pressed the walk button.

She shook her head again. "I don't like it when he and my mom fight," She furrowed her brow. "He told her once that she does a bad job taking care of me when I'm with her and she told him that the court would side with her cuz she's a woman and he'd never see me again. I don't want her to take me away from my daddy."

Logically, I knew I was getting far too invested in this girl's family problems. But the sadness and foreign maturity in her eyes bothered me.

"My daddy and my apartment is up there!" Jenny cheered. We'd stopped in front of a gray brick building. It certainly wasn't the one of the nicer apartments, but it had a rustic, almost vintage feel to it.

She'd said her dad was working, but it couldn't hurt to ask. "Is your dad home?"

"Nope," Jenny said matter-of-factly. "But I'll go up anyway. I have a key in my backpack. I'll just wait for him to come home!"

Of my options, letting the seven-year-old wait alone in her father's apartment was not one of the best ones. But then again, it had to be better than letting her walk to her mother's home with the creepy boyfriend. I sighed in resignation.

"Well, now that you're home safe and sound, do I have your permission to have my iPhone back?" I asked her formally.

She giggled. "Yes!" She dutifully handed it over. "Thanks for walking me home, Lindsey. You're really nice."

I smiled. "It was no trouble at all. I really wish you would talk to your dad, though. I think he'd want to know about your mom and her boyfriend."

"Maybe," Jenny said doubtfully. I looked at her worriedly.

"Okay," I said finally, pulling out a business card from my purse. "If your mom's boyfriend ever makes you feel uncomfortable or in danger, I want you to call this number." I scrawled 911 across the back in a black sharpie.

Jenny took the card, examining it carefully. "Is your number on this too?" She asked.

"Yes," I replied. "But 911 is the number that you should call, Jenny. They can help you. Promise me."

"I promise," Jenny said solemnly. To my surprise, she hugged me, wrapping her little arms around my waist and holding on fiercely. It reminded me of how Jamie used to hug me and my heart lurched.

With one more wave, Jenny walked into her apartment building. A bit bemused, I glanced at my watch, and started towards home.

Caro's eyes were wide with interest as I related the story of the little girl. "I wish I would've been there," She remarked. "I would've insisted on waiting for the dad and telling him straight up what was going on."

I winced. Caro was always better at this sort of thing than I was. "I probably should've done that," I said regretfully. "But I didn't think about it. I don't want her to think that you should always trust strangers."

"Good point," Caro acknowledged. "I'm sure she'll be all right."

"I hope so," I sighed. "I know I'm going to worry about it later." Caro smiled sympathetically and poured me another glass of wine.

"So what else has happened this week?" Caro asked. "Everything squared away?"

"Mostly," I replied. "The rest of my things will arrive any day now, I've got some good leads on some independent editing projects—and I feel…good."

"Good?" Caro arched an eyebrow.

"Good," I confirmed, taking a sip of my glass. "Better than I have in ages. I feel like I have a grasp on my life again. I'm not constantly trying to avoid thinking about Lucas. I'm not burying myself in work. I'm not crying in my sleep…I feel good."

Caro looked at me skeptically. "I'd believe you more if you'd just go out and get laid."

I laughed. "I don't need a guy to make me happy, Caro," I said firmly.

"Well, that's not what I'm saying at all," She huffed. "But point taken. I believe you."


	5. Phone Calls

**AN: LBD actually started a year ago, so the timelines don't really match up. Oh well. **

Lost in a parallel fantasy universe, I was abruptly jerked out of my thoughts when my phone started ringing.

I frowned, looking up from the manuscript I was currently perusing. The only person I knew who would call after midnight was Caro, and she was currently in her room watching Doctor Who. Worriedly, I glanced at the caller ID, but I didn't recognize the number. It was a St. Louis number—a late night call from a prospective writer? Furrowing my brow, I answered it.

"Hello?" I asked cautiously.

"Lindsey?" The voice was vaguely familiar and very young.

"This is Lindsey," I responded slowly. "Who is this?"

"This is Jenny," The voice replied shyly and I dropped the stack of papers in shock. How on earth had she—my business card. The clever girl had completely ignored the black scrawled 911 and had dialed my cell number.

"Are you all right?" I asked, immediately concerned.

"Yes," Jenny replied.

"Well, what are you doing up so late?" I said. "It's after midnight. Don't you have school tomorrow?"

"I can't sleep," Jenny said and I heard her shuffle. "My daddy can. He snores."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Well, I think your daddy would be pretty upset if he knew you were still up and that you called a stranger."

"You're not a stranger," Jenny responded confidently "You're my friend."

I wasn't entirely sure what to say to that but an unexpected lump formed in my throat.

"Well—what did you call me for?" I asked her, twirling a pen between my fingers.

"I wanted to talk to you," Jenny said easily. "I like being back at my dad's. His apartment is bigger and it's not smelly. He plays games with me and sings to me before I go to bed. Right now we're both reading The Chronicles of Narnia and he lets me read the girl voices."

"I love the Chronicles of Narnia," I smiled. "Your dad sounds like a lot of fun. My dad did some of the same kind of things."

"What does your dad do with you?" Jenny inquired.

I hesitated. Swallowing hard, I said steadily, "Well, we liked taking walks together. We liked reading poetry and scary stories together. He sang to me too, but he had a terrible voice and it would always—it would always make me laugh…" I wiped my eyes hurriedly, refusing to let myself cry. It had been almost three years.

"Where's your dad now?"

I paused. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply.

"Lindsey?"

"My dad's in heaven," I said finally. "He died a few years ago."

There was a hushed silence at the end of the line. "I'm sorry," Jenny whispered. "That's horrible."

"It's all right," I said gently. "He was very sick. Now he's not in pain anymore. And he's waiting for me, so it's all right."

"Do you miss him?"

I paused again. "I miss him every day," I said honestly. And it was true. Never mind that I tried to live my days without thinking about him, avoiding the topic like the plague. His death was a giant hole in my life that could never, ever be filled.

"If you want," Jenny said tentatively. "You can share my daddy. He wouldn't mind."

I laughed. "You're very sweet, Jenny. But you should really go to bed now. And I don't think you should call me without your dad's permission, okay?"

"I got in trouble for walking home alone," Jenny remarked. "He said I could've gotten kidnapped and I wasn't to do it again and I probably worried my mom. I didn't tell him my mom forgot to come get me. I told him that you walked me home but I think he thinks you're not real."

I tried not to crack a smile at that, no matter how amusing it was to be considered an imaginary friend by another adult.

"All right, Jenny," I said gently. "Good night. Sweet dreams."

"Sweet dreams!" She said back to me and I heard the click of the phone call ending. Sighing, I turned back to the manuscript.

XXXX

I had an appointment to meet Terrence Jackson Healy the following morning. It was his manuscript I'd been examining when Jenny had called—and it was brilliant. He had created an original, fresh, and intriguing fantasy world. His characters were complex and multi-faceted. The plot had a few weaknesses, but with a good editor, he could easily clean it up into a strong, cohesive plot.

We arranged to meet at a nearby Panera—although, here it was called St. Louis Bread Company. I arrived a few minutes early, ordered a pumpkin spice mocha (the only coffee drink I could stand) and waited, idly checking my email on my phone.

"Ms. Strauss?"

I glanced up to see a young man smiling at me tentatively. "You're Ms. Strauss, right?"

"That's right," I stood and shook his hand. "But please just call me Lindsey, 'Ms. Strauss' makes me feel way older than I actually am." In any case, he didn't look to be that much younger than me. He had a deep black skin with warm brown eyes and a pleasant smile. I liked the youthful spark of mischief in his eyes.

"It's great to meet you in person, Mr. Healy," I said earnestly. "I gotta say, I think you really have something special with your manuscript."

"Thank you," He replied easily. "But if I can call you Lindsey, please call me T.J."

"T.J. it is," I grinned. "How long have you been working on this?"

T.J. considered. "On and off for about five years, I'd say," He decided, tapping his fingers against his chin. "I had more time to work on it in college, believe it or not. When I started working full-time, I had to put it on the back burner. But lately I've been able to manage my time a little better and actually complete a finished draft—I know it's kinda rough…"

"I live by rough drafts," I told him smiling. "And for a rough draft that isn't represented by an agent, this is really good. If you're interested, I'd like to talk to you about some possibilities in publishing it."

T.J. sucked in his breath sharply. "You're—you're really interested in publishing?"

I couldn't help but smile. There was nothing more adorable than a new writer, innocent and fresh-faced, realizing that their treasure, their baby, would be actually published.

"Yes, I am," I replied. "But I should caveat. I have a bigger idea on how to promote your book."

His brow furrowed. "How do you mean?"

"Okay," I began. "Have you heard of the Lizzie Bennet Diaries?"

T.J. blinked. "That have something to do with Pride and Prejudice?"

"In a way," I smiled. "It's a modernized retelling of Pride and Prejudice through youtube vlogs. It's really clever—all of the characters have twitter accounts and tumblr accounts, so you can literally interact with the characters as the plot progresses."

"All right," T.J. said cautiously.

"Here's my idea for your book," I explained. "You have a really great urban fantasy series. You keep the fantastic elements while still maintaining the current atmosphere—technology, social media, etc. Why not incorporate all of these at once? I was thinking we release your book online—with corresponding twitter and facebook accounts that would parallel the events in the plot on a linear format. Release it chapter by chapter, so there's a huge demand for it. Then, when it's finished, release the whole thing in actual book format."

T.J.'s eyes lit up. "You're thinking of fanfictions," He said eagerly. "How writers will update and sort of create a fanbase for them."

"Yes, I am," I said, glad he was catching onto the idea. "The internet is a majorly untapped resource. If we jump on it quick enough, the payout could be really good. But it's up to you. There could be other offers from other publishing houses that would be willing to make you a more traditional offer. It's completely up to you."

T.J. considered. "I've never been traditional," He smiled. "When do we start?"

XXXX

"He likes you."

I rolled my eyes. "Not again, Caro."

"Come on! He's gorgeous," Caro pleaded. We had just finished buying celebratory drinks with T.J. after hashing out the technical details of publishing and publicizing his work. It had been a long but rewarding day.

"He's a client," I said primly. "Somebody I'm working with. No romance there."

"Like that's ever stopped you before," Caro snorted. I glared at her.

"Lucas was a fluke," I said firmly. "Besides—even if it wasn't, it's not like that turned out so great. I learned my lesson."

Caro blew out her cheeks impatiently. "I wish you'd stop hiding yourself."

"And I wish you'd stop ragging on me," I snapped. "I will date when _I _feel ready, not before."

Caro opened her mouth to argue but we were abruptly interrupted by my cell phone. Sighing, I pulled it out of my purse, checking the caller ID. It was another St. Louis number, but I didn't recognize it.

"Hello?" I answered with a sigh.

"L-Lindsey?" There was an uncomfortably familiar voice sniffling on the other line.

"Jenny?" I asked alarmed. Caro choked on her drink and stared at me with wide eyes.

"Yes," Jenny gulped down a sob. "C-can you help me?"


End file.
